Broken Mirrors
by LittleLunarFirefly
Summary: Can assassins stare into mirrors? Karma and Nagisa became assassins in their third year of middle school-both by choice. And of course, fate likes to play with the best people and tear down their entire, loving world. Their own choices has left them in pure madness. Who'll be thrilling? Chilling? Who'll break? Kaerb ll'ohw? Lolwh' akber? Ow'lhl breka?...Not the mirrors. Haha...


**Hello! It's been a while since I've been writing fanfics so...let's see how my latest creation goes...involving the au no one asked for and probably didn't want...^^;**

 **ANYWAYS PLS ENJOY AND DON'T FORGET TO LEAVE COMMENTS I AM 100% OPEN TO ANY CRITISISM OR POSITIVITY! :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Assassination Classroom**

 **BTW NO PAIRINGS**

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There was just something about power. Something about towering over people. Something about instilling fear into their bodies and watching them tremble before him. There was just something about that, that made it hard to control the blood lust. It was exciting when the adrenaline pumped through the veins and when the victims knew their time was up. Each and every reaction as the same, yet different. Denial, a mesh of ugly crying, pointless rambles, screaming, crying, glaring, horrifying gazes, etc. If there was one thing that was so common, it was their trembling, the fear that made them pee their pants like a child, and the lame attempts at running away. No matter what, they'd end their lives with him at their throats. And he knew this.

So he'd raise the knife and move forward.

On good days, he'd kill them cleanly, cutting through the flesh of the chest and right into that firm, satisfying place of the heart. But, if he was in a bad mood, he'd let the killings ease his mind by cutting, oh so slowly, into the skin, through the tissue, into the muscles, tearing out veins and easily slicing the tendons from the body. He'd play with the spinal cord and take out their eyeballs, cut out their tongues with that satisfying crunch, and maybe tear out their stomach and mess up the intestines.

"I'm pretty sure there was something about the nervous system," he said one time, managing to hear himself over the deafening scream beside him that slowly died down to a painful whimper, then silence. "They say there's an involuntary react- oh, that's it." the boy hummed as he examined the reaction. He grew satisfied after a moment and stopped his antics.

"Well, I suppose this makes up for dealing with that stupid excuse of a guardian." the boy stood to admire his artwork.

"I think I'm in a better mood now. I wanted to test that out after someone told me about it." the smile was so innocent, so playful, that one might've assumed he was a child playing in the beautiful flower garden which had been stained with red dirt, just as his body was.

"Have more control. You'll get caught." his subordinate growled to the teenage boy who was twirling the weapon in his hand. "Should I care?" The boy chuckled and stood at a stance that made his eyes nearly glow with bloodlust. "Killing is just way too much fun!"

He was still a student. Assassination wasn't his profession, nor was it a part-time job. It was his hobby. A sick, cruel program that had been installed into his brain and infected every neuron in his brain, reprogramming the way he acted, the way he stood, the way he laughed, the way he felt joy. But, he had friends. They were all people precious to him. Kayano Kaede, Nakamura Rio, Horibe Itona, Koro-Sensei, and there was that one more boy... They shared something. They were the same, yet so different. His closest friends were the only reason he kept that miniscule piece of sanity left in him. But even if they were the only reason for him not driving off the edge, he didn't think anything they said would wake him up from that dream.

"Killing is fun!"

"Look, the heartbeat really does slow down..."

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"Ah, I really want to go to Hawaii and watch another movie. I wonder if Koro-Sensei would take us?"

But even a psychopath like him had once been completely normal without an act. He'd muse about plans with friends in front of the empty mirror. There was no meaning to looking in a pure, broken mirror that was rid of glass, shard scattered. Maybe it was the madness running in his mind that made him do it. A discriminated student sent to study with other disappointments. He had fun, went to arcades, and stayed out till night. Though, the everlasting rush of blood seemed to overpower any normality left in his body. He stopped hanging out with friends and would run home, eager to begin his day's work. Of course, there were always consequences for enjoying such a... beautiful, artistic past time.

It was fun. Killing was his hobby. Of course, because of it, he had lost a few of his loved ones. It wasn't like he cared though. He had killed them, almost all of them. And he enjoyed every bit of it. Watching the beautiful faces twisted and churned into unidentifiable heaps of flesh. While their bones cracked and turned into forms he never thought possible. It was ugly, but he liked it. It was an art, but not one others favored. He still loved it. He would never give it up for anything.

His humanity was gone, eaten up by a monster so finely and elegantly.

And it wasn't coming back.

* * *

"Go." a sudden impulse to run and slash a throat when in view of the target, a common habit. It made him sick to his stomach, but he couldn't falter. Hesitation would bite him back in the butt later if he did.

"Go!" He ran as fast as he could, trying to keep his rising bile inside as he tackled a burly man and sliced easily through the thick skin of his neck. Within seconds, the man fell and a rotten stench plagued his senses.

 _I don't want to kill_. He told himself. _But if I don't, they'll kill me._

Kill or be killed. Someone had said that to him a long time ago, but he couldn't recall when or who.

He never liked killing. The blood he was once neutral with now smelled rotten and he felt sick whenever he saw a bone. Even so, he'd probably killed way more than any other person in the business. A simple slice around the throat or a clean stab through the heart was enough to kill them, but also enough to make him vomit at his sins. He used to be so good at handling blood and even one-upping someone in a battle. He used to take pride in such things, but… but what?

His mind was eating him up. Consistently telling-no, _begging_ him not to do it, but that monster's voice was stronger. You had to kill to live, the monster told him. He had to kill if he wanted to see the people who made his life just a bit more bearable. He had to live in order to fulfill that promise to kill their beloved teacher.

"Why did fate send me to do this?" he often asked to himself, staring at his lifeless reflection in the cracked mirror. He couldn't recall a day where he had slept peacefully, and by now his classmates were starting to notice. He'd easily wave it off as simple restless nights filled with comics and homework he didn't really do, but of course, it wouldn't last as a good excuse forever. Sooner or later he'd be found out, and frankly, he hoped that someone would come and save him from the abyss he was too far into.

"Why're you so down today? Are your parents doing something to you?" Nakamura Rio had asked one day. He was disgusted with himself when he felt no sympathy for her concern. Irritation rose within when he could only think about how she'd never understand, how she was blessed with a normal life, but when he thought again… Who was normal in this classroom? She had been a genius who threw it all away, Hayami had been taken advantage of and left in misery, and then there was that other boy… neither of their families were normal. It was something they shared. Nothing that girl had done to destroy herself compared to what the two boys had faced as friends.

"No worries. No one bothers me. And why so worried? So unlike you." he grinned so easily, so innocently, so normally, that she had to believe it. She had to. He was an assassin. He had killed more than anyone. He was skilled. He was talented. Prodigious. So, naturally that came with acting talent for disguise. There was that porcelain mask that assassins would never give up unless they wanted the glue to rip off their true colors.

"Hmm...if you say so." Rio turned around and hesitantly walked away. He was alone again, but it was fine. He'd be too anxious, surrounded by only peace and unknowing peers when his mind was so corrupted and slowly twisting into nothingness. It was misery that was his friend. The friend that was always with him, hands slowly latching themselves onto his neck and whispering into his ear.

 _This is my profession. Even if I throw up a thousand times. Even if I can't attack with passion like I used to. This is the life that was chosen for me._ After all, there were invisible chains that had bound him over and over again. A chain of blood. A chain with the weight of the expectations of his parents. The parents who encouraged and nurtured his torturing talent. They, who birthed him with so much love, were the biggest terrors in his life.

He once enjoyed action. Reading all those comics with his friend was fun. He had even aspired of being as strong as one of the characters, to protect his life. Self-defense, so to say. Combat, assassination skills, or anything else used to protect was fine to use. But, never would he have imagined that this was the way he'd use his strength. Self-defense in such an indirect, almost cowardly way.

He was never one to let others tell how he was feeling, but that never stopped the uncontrollable flow of tears he'd shed once his work was done. Numbness was what he wanted. The ability to not feel sympathy, empathy, discomfort, disgust. Of course, the feelings came back ten times harder, stronger. There was a point in time when he felt like he was the best. But times had changed, and so had he.

He was an assassin. A great one. But he was an assassin who no longer wished to kill.

* * *

"Nagisa!" Kayano rushed over to the blue haired male with a wide smile. "Let's go get pudding today! There's a great shop that just opened up!"

Nagisa nodded off, sleepy. "Uh, sorry Kayano. I'm a bit tired. Maybe next time." despite his exhaustion, there was a small smile on his lips. At a glance, he seemed so relaxed, but there was something about his eyes that just seemed so… Frightening? Or frightened? Maybe a twisted definition of both. His smile grew unnerving as if a bit of madness was ready to slip out, but Nagisa seemed eager to keep his head relaxed.

"Kama-Kun!" Koro-Sensei rushed into the room with a wave of panic coming over his face, tentacles waving madly into the air. The students left in the classroom after school paused in their conversations to give attention to whatever had happened.

"Did you eat my last popsicle?!" He shouted accusingly as a few chuckled at the daily antics of the redhead, returning to their previous conversations. No one seemed to notice the set of boys with almost animalistic looks in their eyes despite their gazes boring right into people's heads.

"Sorry, Teach." Karma cackled lightly, eyes dark and lost as he absently tossed the popsicle stick into the garbage. The delinquent tried his best to act normal, even if his eyes darted nervously all around with that wide, sadistic grin on his face. "Wanted to cool my head. Even I get overwhelmed~."

An assassin who's passed the stage of humanity in the worst way possible, or an assassin who still had a suffering conscience. Tell me, which one was worse? Who was who? Who was chilling? Who was thrilling?

Oh...and asking me who broke? That's easy.

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Both.

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 **JDSDODFJEIOSFDKCMSKODMAS I FINISHEEEEDDDDDDD HEY GUYS BACK TO SCHOOL AND ALL THAT I FINALLY FINISHED A STORY EVEN THOUGH THIS WAS CREATED IN SCHOOL (Of course, edited at home) BUT I HOPED YOU ENJOYED PLS LEAVE A REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW IF THERE ARE ANY REQUESTS FOR A STORY I'D BE GLAD TO DO THEM!**

 **P.S: KitKat! :)**


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